


Rest and Recover

by winglesswarrior



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1211554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winglesswarrior/pseuds/winglesswarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone had to play nurse...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest and Recover

**Author's Note:**

> Silly fluff! Beta'd by me so all typos and weirdly worded things are mine.

“You know he’s the Sheriff’s son right?” 

“I’m aware.”

“You know you were recently accused of murder, yes?” 

“I remember.” 

“That’s not going to be a conflict of interest?” 

Derek shook his head. “I was exonerated. It’s been at least a year.” 

“You really think the Sheriff’s memory is that short?” 

Derek shoved another spare shirt into his bag and shook his head for what felt like the millionth time. “Don’t care Peter.” Peter gave Derek a look, the unimpressed face he always made, but Derek ignored it again, like he always did. 

“Why does this kid matter so much?”

“He’s pack,” Derek said plainly then added. “Family.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Or he’s under your skin and you want more than just another bizarre family member.” 

Derek could tell Peter was bracing for some sort of physical reaction from Derek, but he didn’t lash out like he might have before. Apparently South America had mellowed him. Not being an Alpha might have done the same thing. 

“If he’s replacing you, I’m actually fine with it,” Derek said. “I’m going.” He tossed his bag over one shoulder and started down the spiral staircase of his loft. “See if you can stay out of trouble for a few days.” 

“That’s it? Really?” Peter sounded amused. “The puny human is what you’ve always wanted in the world?” 

“So what if he is?” Not that Derek was actually admitting to that, but he wasn’t ready to completely deny it just yet. Maybe that was what this was. Maybe not. 

For the first time ever, Derek parked in the driveway. Usually it was around the block, two streets away, but usually he wasn’t supposed to be there. This time he was all but invited. They’d sent Stiles home from the hospital, but he was still recovering, his human body not at all made for what he went through. Which meant someone needed to play nurse. The sheriff had a station to run and a job he was trying to hold on to, Scott’s mom had work as well. Scott and the others had school, which hadn’t been keen on them missing as many days as they had through everything, and they had to get back. So Derek spoke up. And now he was looking at four days of crashing at the Stilinski house, helping out with Stiles. Of course though, there was first the inevitable first conversation with Stiles’ father.

The sheriff opened the door before Derek could finish knocking, as if he’d been waiting on the other side of it. He swung it open wide to stare at Derek. 

“I was expecting Isaac.” 

Derek stood his ground, not one to be intimidated even if the man was good at it. “He has school, just like the others. I have time and am probably more trustworthy.” 

“There was a time a while ago when you were an accused felon and I was trying to arrest you.” 

“I haven’t forgotten, but I’m innocent. You proved that.” Derek paused for a moment then went on. “I want to help.” 

The sheriff grumbled and eventually moved to let Derek into the house. “Guest room is at the top of the stairs on the left, Stiles’ room is on the right.” 

“I know. Have a good day at work.” 

Stiles’ father shot Derek a look, but he was already headed up the stairs and into Stiles’ room. As he opened the door, there was a sound of scrambling and then a pained whimper as he guessed Stiles jumped back into bed. 

“You’re supposed to be resting.” 

“I’m in bed!” Stiles sounded exasperated, as if he’d saying that same line over and over again, but he looked surprised to see Derek there. “I thought Isaac was coming.” 

“Do you really trust your health and well being to him?” 

“You turned him,” Stiles said, shifting and not making eye contact with Derek. He was still in pajamas, plaid pants and a shirt that had to be two sizes too big. Despite its size it only barely hid the cuts on his skin and did little for the neatly bandaged cut on his face. It did even less for the cast on his left hand. Derek knew there were more, he’d seen Stiles in the aftermath, but thankfully he couldn’t see them now. He wasn’t looking for the anger that those brought out in him.

“And he’s no nurse or healer,” Derek said, and got a shrug out of Stiles. Derek set his bag down and walked more into the room. “Why were you out of bed?” he asked taking in the pictures on the wall, Stiles’ never ending research. 

“I don’t have all the answers yet,” Stiles insisted from behind him, climbing out of bed again and lumbering towards Derek. “Like the _how_ and the _why_ ,” he explained, pointing to things on the wall, but losing his footing and stumbling, his good arm going out to catch himself on Derek. 

“You do have multiple broken bones, cuts, and significant blood loss,” Dere said sternly. “So either I bite you and you heal or you go back to bed.” 

Stiles gave Derek a look, but pulled his hand away and hobbled back to his bed. “Definitely looking forward to the sourwolf as my babysitter,” he grumbled under his breath. 

“I can hear that.” 

“I don’t care.” 

\------

Two days in and Stiles hated him. More than usual. Like the same level of hate from around two weeks after he showed up the first time when Stiles had been sure Derek was there to kill them all or just let Scott get killed for kicks, that kind of hate. Maybe more like when he was a vague Alpha douche. EIther way it was still hate. 

And it boiled to the surface with a rage that Stiles had been holding back for weeks. Rage at everyone, everything, himself included. Derek had tried to help him up the stairs after dinner. Not really helping though, more dropping everything he was doing to wind up a step behind Stiles, one hand on his back. That should be hot. Gorgeous Derek-freaking-Hale touching him and not threatening him, but it wasn’t. 

“For the love of God, get your hands off me,” Stiles yelped, swinging his casted arm around at Derek hoping to hit him. The cast caught its mark, not hard, but it was enough to stun Derek, not because of the hit, but the action alone. Stiles grabbed the railing with his good hand and pulled himself up on his own. “I’m not dying. You remember being hurt? Mountain ash bullet in your arm? You would have killed me for coddling you.” 

Derek rubbed his cheek, looking up as Stiles made his slow progression up the stairs. “If I remember correctly you threatened to leave me on the side of the road. And you hit me.” And he’d been the number one reason why Derek wasn’t dead. 

“Damn right I did. And I almost cut off your arm. So stop babying me. And stop looking at me like I’m already too far gone.” 

Derek watched Stiles hobble away and stayed downstairs for the rest of the night. 

\------

Derek was keeping his distance. Stiles was moving better and his stitches were healing. It was amazing what a couple of days of rest could do even without the ability to heal himself. Derek had decided to give the young man space, only taking care of him as needed. As he passed Stiles’ room at the end of the third day though, the soft, frustrated noise was something he couldn’t ignore. He slipped into the room to find a half-dressed Steiles trying to fix the buttons on his shirt and the cast on his hand getting in the way. He was clearly fed up with the shirt, but still struggling with it showing off the bandages and marks that marred his chest including the larger bandage that covered the spot on his abdomen where he’d been shot but thankfully recovered from. 

As Derek got closer he spotted the tears in Stiles’ eyes and reached for his shirt, starting the buttons from the bottom. “Get tired of pjs?” he asked. 

Stiles sniffed, letting his hands drop to his side. “Not that it matters.” 

Maybe it was cheating, but Derek made sure his fingers grazed Stiles’ stomach as he buttoned. “Why does it matter?” 

“Because I can’t do a damn thing with this!” Stiles waved his broken arm around to prove his point, but when Derek touched his skin, he shivered a little. 

“You can do plenty. Just might have to hold off on buttons for a few weeks.” Derek made sure his fingers grazed Stiles’ skin again pleased when the younger man shivered again. 

Stiles’ eyes ticked up to Derek’s face. “Why are you here?” 

Derek didn’t meet Stiles’ eyes even though he could him looking at him. Instead he kept his eyes on his shirt. “Someone needs to be here.” 

“Yeah, but not you.”

“It made the most sense. Everyone else had lives to get back to. And I had time and am perfectly capable of taking care of you.” Derek paused. “And I wanted to.” He finished the last button and patted Stiles’ chest lightly. “All set.” He went to move away but Stiles grabbed his shirt. 

“I’m gonna do something,” the younger man started as Derek looked down at his hand. “Do not hit me.” 

Derek had meant to give Stiles a look but didn’t get a chance. Not giving Derek time to react, Stiles had leapt forward and pressed an eager kiss to Derek’s lips. 

Derek was too surprised to kiss back and too confused to be sure he wanted to. After a moment he did catch Stiles’ shoulders and moved him back half a foot. “What are you doing?” 

Stiles looked ashamed, confused. “I don’t...know.” Derek could tell he was lying, not just because he was a werewolf, but because it was that obvious. He gave Stiles the look he’d wanted to give him before which was enough for the younger man to wilt. 

“Fine. Kissing you because it seemed like a good idea. And in my defense you were touching me first. And you’re like _here_ playing nurse which is so not you, but apparently I…” 

Derek had let Stiles ramble in pure Stiles fashion for a moment, but cut him off with a kiss, something sure and confident unlike his non-reaction before. Stiles made a noise into the kiss before melting against him, arms weaving their way around Derek, holding on to to him for dear life. Peter was right. This kid had gotten under his skin. Guys weren’t usually his thing, but this guy was and any doubt was forgotten with the way Stiles was kissing him, eager, needy, and with every inch of his being. 

Derek drew the kiss out wanting to go on like this for as long as he could stand it, but wound up breaking it off as he heard a car pull up. Stiles was pleading, trying to pull him back, but he managed to get himself out of his hold. “Someone’s here. Later.” 

Stiles looked distraught until his father called out for both of them. “See?” Derek turned Stiles towards the door. “Go. Right behind you.” 

\---------

The last night, Derek snuck into his room. Stiles was awake still, computer in his lap, surprised to see Derek duck into his room with that all too familiar finger to his lips and ‘don’t say a word’ look. 

Stiles shut the laptop without hesitation, ignoring that he was mid-IM chat with Lydia about her upcoming final paper topics and what exactly random stolen kisses could lead to, and reached out for Derek as he got closer to the bed. Derek-fucking-Hale was leaning in to kiss him again, letting himself be pulled onto the bed and wrapping his arms around Stiles. 

Stiles was in heaven. He’d wondered about the guy for a while, Derek always on the top of list of guys he thought were hot and guys he dreamed about especially with the way Derek was obviously physical, completely capable of manhandling Stiles, and willing to do as much. Of course Stiles had resigned himself to think that his only potential for guy hook ups would be a drunk or lonely Danny at best and even then only because Stiles had been trying to subtly put that idea in his head for years. Never, not once, did Stiles think that this could happen with Derek Hale of all people. 

But it was happening. Derek was pushing his shirt up and off, running warms hands were trailing across pale skin, and leaving goosebumps popping up in their wake. The kiss slowed as Derek leaned back to look at him, barely touching the healing cuts and bandages. “If you’d take the bite all of this would be gone.” Derek’s voice was a wistful whisper that made Stiles’ heart ache. 

“How well does it work out for people you turn?” Stiles asked, cheeky answer despite the fact that he wanted to say yes. He didn’t want to fear what the MRI scans meant. He didn’t want to be afraid of dying. 

Derek pulled away at the low blow, not looking at Stiles. “Things are different now. I’m different.” 

Stiles felt shitty for the face that Derek was making, that broken look. Stiles needed to remember that those healing abilities only healed the body, not everything else. “But I haven’t. I did my stint as not all human. I don’t want to do it again.” Stiles reached for Derek pulling him back. “Plus you can’t tell me all these scars won’t be sexy.” 

Derek made a noise that could have been a laugh or a grunt, but he went back into Stiles’ arms kissing him hard. “You don’t need scars,” he murmured, voice more of a growl. 

“You’re completely full of shit, but I’ll let it slide just this once.” 

“Stiles?” 

“Mmm?” 

“Shut up.”


End file.
